Trapped in Her Eyes (Rewrite)
by kj-writes-stuff
Summary: Inga, a seventeen year old girl who was forced into slavery, returns to her hometown, Kattegat, to be resold. Much to her surprise, she winds up as the newest servant to her childhood friends, the Ragnarssons. Despite her history with them, she refuses to discuss her past and acts distant. However, a certain blue-eyed male is determined to find out the truth...no matter the cost.
1. Introduction

It was a busy day in Kattegat. A ship full of slaves had just arrived at the docks and the town was abuzz. Seventeen-year-old, Inga, exited the ship she had been contained on and stepped foot on the wooden platform. She felt a strange feeling overcome her. It had been almost four years since she had been in Kattegat, and she dreaded returning. There was nothing there for her, but somehow, she found herself back home. It seemed that she was meant to stay in the town of Kattegat for forever.

She released a sigh before following the other slave girls in a single file line. She was used to the process of being bought and sold and had grown used to constant changes in her life, but a part of her hoped that she might be found and freed by someone she once knew. She doubted that she would be so lucky but sent out a silent prayer to the Gods anyway.

She continued to follow the girl in front of her until they made it to the center of town. The first stop would most likely be at Queen Aslaug's Hall, so Inga followed the other girls eagerly. She had known Queen Aslaug when she was a young girl; long before she had become a slave and long before she had lost her parents. Perhaps Queen Aslaug would recognize her and take her in.

After weaving through the crowd and taking several turns, Inga and the other slaves appeared at the hall. The man who was to be presenting them opened the door and allowed them to walk in, making sure to remind them to behave themselves and to answer any questions they were asked.

Inga nodded to the slave keeper, agreeing to his requests, and entered the hall. Seeing as though Inga had been much younger during her last visit to the Hall, everything seemed very different; oddly familiar, but smaller and somewhat strange.

On the throne sat Queen Aslaug. She wore a heavy crown and a fancy gown that complimented her features. She seemed to be almost as beautiful as Inga could remember, but something about her also seemed slightly worn out; she seemed drastically older even though Inga had only been absent in town for four years.

The Queen waited for all the slaves to get themselves in line. Once they were situated, the slave keeper approached the Queen and explained his order of business. She appeared to be grateful for his offer to allow her to have first pick at slaves and she handed him a small leather pouch that most likely contained coins of some sort.

Slowly, she descended the throne. There was grace in each step she took, and she was anything but quick as she began examining the slave girls before her.

The Queen stopped by each slave girl and examined their features. She asked for each girl's name and their skillsets before moving on to the next woman. For some of the slaves, the Queen didn't make an effort to even look at them; Inga was unsure as to what the Queen was looking for in a slave and hoped she fit the criteria.

Before long, Queen Aslaug had made her way down the line of girls and was moving towards Inga. The young slave girl held her breath as the Queen approached and stood in front of her to look her over. Inga watched as the Queen's eyes flitted over her body, noting the blue-green eyes, the wavy, coppery hair, and the worn expression that Inga possessed. Something flashed in the Queen's eyes. Perhaps, she remembered Inga.

"What is your name?" the Queen asked. Inga responded by staring back at the Queen, debating if she should reveal her name. She knew that by saying her name, the Queen would remember who she was, but at the same time, Inga hated her name. It reminded her of the girl she used to be; the innocent, small child who once led a happy life. She was no longer that same girl.

Inga took a deep breath before speaking her name in a low, hushed voice. As soon as her name left her lips, the Queen's entire face lit up. Endless memories of the once young child fled through the Queen's mind.

"So, it is you," She responded with a smile, "I wondered what had happened to you. There was news that you left town a few years back. It seems that you ended up in the wrong clutches." She looked the girl over once more before staring over at the slave keeper.

"I want this girl," She stated, pointing a finger to Inga.

"That one?" The man inquired, "You have yet to see the one's after her."

Queen Aslaug shook her head, "I do not need to see them. I want this girl."

The man gave her a sharp nod before walking over to Inga and unbinding her wrists. Once her hands were free, he nudged her to step out of line so that she might stand closer to the Queen. Inga felt her heart begin to beat heavily. Perhaps the Gods did care. They had granted her the chance to live a safe life and to reconnect with family friends.

The slave keeper led the other slaves back out of the hall, leaving the room vastly empty. Now alone with the Queen, Inga watched as the woman's gaze fell over her and a light grin flickered across her face.

"Tell me, what happened to you?"

Inga felt her face heat up and she quickly looked down at her feet. Her story was a long and painful one to tell. She didn't know if she was quite ready to face it yet.

"I'd rather not say," She responded quietly. The Queen gave her an understanding nod.

"Perhaps another time," Aslaug told her, "For now, I think it'd be best that I show you your quarters and help you to readjust to life in Kattegat."

Inga gave her a slow, but firm nod, "I will do any work that you ask of me. I know that you are a kind woman and that I can trust that any task you give me will be a reasonable and painless one. I will work outside or inside, just as long as I am granted safety, shelter, and food."

Another smile grew on the Queen's face, "How would you feel about working here in the Hall for me and my sons?" She inquired. Inga urged herself to agree, but at the same time, began to worry. It had been so long since she had last seen the Queen's sons. What had become of them, and did they even remember her?

Before Inga could ask any further questions, she heard the doors to the Hall begin to open and she watched as four men entered; the Ragnarssons.

The first man to step foot in the building was a tall man who was almost identical to the absent King Ragnar. He had a long dirty blonde braid and a beard, complimented by light blue eyes. Inga assumed that this man was Ubbe, Aslaug's oldest son. He had always been kind to her when she was younger, but she had never been overly close with him because he was often out training. The few memories that she shared with him mostly consisted of him showing her the new moves he had learned with a shield or sword; they never really took the time to converse or get to know one another. Still, she was fond of the memories all the same.

After Ubbe, came another man who was of similar height. He had hair that was slightly shorter and that was braided back and accompanied by hazel eyes and light facial hair. Judging by his height, Inga guessed that he was Hvitserk, the second oldest son who was closest with Ubbe. He was the brother that Inga found to be the funniest. As a young child, he always seemed to be very lively and mischievous. He always snuck Inga sweets and tried to make her laugh by telling her silly jokes. The man Inga saw before her appeared to be no different than the boy he once was. His expression was still playful, and his eyes seemed to be searching for something fun to do.

Following Hvitserk was a man who was slightly shorter and who had curly blonde hair that fell to his shoulders. His eyes were a dark blue and he had a bit of facial hair covering his face. Unlike the other two brothers, Inga immediately recognized him as Sigurd. As children they had gotten along well. Sigurd always had a love for music and would often play songs for her on his lute or teach her fun dances. They had both cared for one another, but it was clear that Sigurd cared for her as more than just a friend. She wondered if he still remembered her and cared for her as he once did.

The last man to enter the room was one she most definitely could not mistake. Ivar.

Ivar Ragnarsson was Aslaug's youngest son. He was only about sixteen years of age and he was a bitter young man. He had been born with thin, deformed, and useless legs, causing him to be in constant pain. Because of his condition, he spent the first couple years of his life being carried and wheeled around. He was babied by his mother and either pitied or hated by others. Inga was always intrigued by him and had attempted to befriend him as a child. He wasn't all that interested at first, but eventually she got him to open up.

Usually, the pair would sit and talk about the myths to pass the time, or they would play Tafl. On certain occasions, Inga would join Ivar's lessons with Floki, but most of the time, they would just sit together in silence. There was something about it that Inga enjoyed, but she could never quite understand why. Still, she treasured the time she had spent with him and regretted not being around him enough. Even though she had only left town four years ago, her connection to the Ragnarssons had stopped years before, when she was only about seven or eight.

Inga broke her train of thought, and instead watched as Ivar crawled into the Hall through the doors. Despite his austere expression and his cold and piercing blue eyes, Inga hoped that he remembered her and that the two could rekindle their friendship.

A few moments passed before anything was said. Instead the four sons all stared at Inga dumbfounded. It had been so long since they had last seen her. Why was she here in Kattegat again?

A look of remembrance flashed through each son's eyes. Sigurd appeared to be the most overjoyed to see her again. He could not help himself from smiling broadly and rushing forward to embrace her. She was surprised by this but allowed him to hug her anyway.

Once he pulled away, he stood back to admire her. Ubbe and Hvitserk came closer to do the same, but Ivar hung back, still unsure about the whole situation.

"Where have you been all this time?" Sigurd asked breathlessly. Inga's blue-green eyes met his and she gave him a gentle look.

"It is a story I'd rather not tell," She explained. She could see that he was somewhat concerned about her secrecy, but he did not push her to answer any questions. Ubbe and Hvitserk both welcomed her home. She was surprised that they seemed as glad to see her as they did considering that she had never been as close with them as their two youngest brothers.

Once the three elder sons had finished welcoming Inga, Ivar pulled himself up into one of the dining chairs. Unlike the others, he had no interest in talking with her. As children they had gotten along, but since then he had changed into an unhappy man who no longer had an interest in women or in having close friendships.

He had tried to lie with a woman once before and it had ended in embarrassment, so he forbid himself from warming up to any woman of any kind. He wasn't looking to befriend Inga either. He wasn't one for small talk and he always found himself quarrelling with his other brothers, especially Sigurd, so he did not wish to acquaint himself with anyone new. In his eyes, he did not belong or fit in with other people. It didn't bother him much, though. He found people to be weak and not worth his time.

Inga could tell that he was trying to distance himself from the group, but she knew not to drag him into the conversation. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't because she was slave and didn't want to risk angering him. The Queen approached her sons and quietly explained that Inga was now of the status of a slave. The sons, especially Sigurd, were glad to know that she was going to be working in the Hall, and they were all equally delighted to know that they had possibly saved her from having to serve an unkind and demanding master.

Ivar, who was still sitting far from the crowd, grumbled something under his breath. Sigurd turned his head in the direction of Ivar. The two had never gotten along, even as children, and they were both always looking for ways to annoy one another. Seeing as though Inga had been one of Sigurd's only close friends as a child, he cast his brother a hateful look and sneered, "What is your problem?" He snapped.

Ivar's eyes narrowed like a snake and his words began to drip venom, "I don't understand why you are all so ecstatic. She is a slave now. Why should her life story and well-being matter all that much to us?"

Ubbe shook his head at his brother's unkind words, and Hvitserk appeared to be biting his tongue, trying to act as though he was unaffected by Ivar's words. Sigurd, however, became enraged with Ivar's unkind treatment to Inga's return. Although Inga was not hurt by Ivar's un-enthusiasm and sharp words, Sigurd continued to try and argue with him, claiming that Ivar was heartless and ignorant, but he was eventually stopped short by Aslaug, who approached Ivar and tried to cheer him up and encourage him to be kind.

Although he had more cruel things to say, he bit his tongue and flashed Sigurd a glare. He picked up a stray pitcher of ale and poured himself a glass, still trying his best to avert his attention from Inga. She could not understand why he was being so cold towards her, but she continued to act calm and collected. If she wanted to befriend him again she knew that she would just have to wait for him to warm up to her, just as she had to wait as a child.

Even with Ivar's harshness, Inga found herself in good spirits. Queen Aslaug may not have freed her but being back in Kattegat with people who cared for her was an overwhelming, but also relieving thing. She had initially been afraid to return, but now, all that fear was gone. She had finally made it home.

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 **For anyone who doesn't know already, this is a rewrite of my first fanfiction (which is also called "Trapped in Her Eyes.")**

 **I hope that you all enjoy this chapter. I don't find it to be my best work, but I think that it does a good job of setting up the story (cause in the next chapter I am going to skip like a month or two ahead because I don't feel like explaining Inga's chores and lifestyle and blah, blah, blah.)**

 **Feel free to comment, favorite, or follow my story. I always love feedback and I love to know people's predictions and to get other's opinions. Also, how would people feel about me asking a "chapter-ly" question like I did in my original fanfiction. Personally, I enjoy asking questions because I like learning more about my readers, but if no one is going to actually answer them then there is no point in me asking them to begin with.**

 **Anyway, I hope that people enjoy this and that everyone is having a great day. Peace out!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter/the introduction of my reboot! I hope that you enjoyed and that you like this chapter just as much!**

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It had been a month since Inga had arrived in Kattegat and she was beginning to adjust to her life as the Lothbroks' slave. She had found that her duties as a servant were not overly demanding and were instead quite simple. Most of what she did consisted of regular house chores; things like washing clothes and serving dinner.

While she didn't always enjoy having to wait night and day on the royal family, she was grateful for the kindness they showed her. Not once did any of them push her to discuss her past; they were all respectful of her and her wishes.

Still, she tried her best to avoid them. It wasn't that she was particularly weary or angry with any of them, it was rather that things felt different. She was no longer a free woman and so having friendly conversations with the Ragnarssons felt odd; almost like she was breaking some unspoken rule.

There had only been a few occasions where she had actually had the chance to catch up with any of the sons. Her exchanges with Hvitserk usually consisted of joking; he would tease her sometimes as she worked or tell her funny stories when she was free from her duties. Ubbe didn't try and talk with her much; she could tell that he wanted to give her space and time to adjust to her life, which she found to be very considerate.

Ivar, as expected, paid little to no attention to Inga, or at least he tried not to. In the rare instances where he would acknowledge her existence, he would spend his time asking her to do tedious chores for him. He never thanked her or made eye-contact with her, and he was always sure to speak to her in a condescending tone, almost as if he thought of her as less than human. Still, Inga remained patient and prayed that there would be a day where Ivar would accept her.

As for Sigurd, well, he was the exact opposite of Ivar. Instead of ignoring Inga or insulting her, he constantly tried to praise her for her work or give her a hand with whatever she was doing. She didn't feel right allowing him to help her with her work but seeing as though he had the authority to order her around, she had no choice but to allow him to assist her. And as much as she appreciated his kindness, she couldn't help but wonder if he was merely trying to gain her favor so that she would someday be willing to go to bed with him. She didn't want to believe that to be true, but that constant fear always hung in the back of her mind.

One particular morning, the four sons had asked her to accompany them to the forest where they trained. Inga had initially tried to decline, but they guilted her into coming. She knew that Aslaug would most likely not care if she slacked off with her work, but Inga couldn't help but feel as though she was breaking the rules and failing at her job; after all, she was a slave, not a playmate. Still, she woke up early and followed them out into the forest. On the walk there, she did not talk much and instead listened to them discuss the arrival of their father, Ragnar Lothbrok.

In the month that Inga had returned back to Kattegat, the absent King, Ragnar Lothbrok had also made his return. He had been missing from Kattegat for ten years, so as expected, his arrival caused quite the stir. Many people were angry with him because of some news regarding a settlement that was destroyed. Inga knew little of what they talked about but was still equally weary of him because he had abandoned his sons. She did care for the King and knew that her father had once been friends with him, but she couldn't help but feel upset at the thought that he abandoned his kingdom and his family; what kind of king did that sort of thing and then returned home, acted as though nothing had happened, and tried to invite his sons to raid with him to England?

Although she felt strongly about the situation, Inga did not bother to speak up. Even if she hadn't been a slave, she still would have kept out of the conversation. She was not Ragnar's child, so she found that it was not her place to join in on the discussion. And besides, all the sons except Ivar seemed opposed to siding with their father; there would be no swaying them.

She continued to walk behind them, lugging a basket full of food and other miscellaneous items. Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd all walked before Inga, carrying Ivar on a chair. She wasn't sure how far into the woods they planned on going, but it wasn't long before she noticed a clearing filled with various targets and animal carcasses.

When they reached the clearing, the three brothers set Ivar's chair down on the ground and began to unsheathe and sharpen their weapons. Inga, who had never witnessed the sons' training sessions before, awkwardly unpacked the basket of food and worked on setting it out on a misshapen log table. She was unsure as to why they had brought her along in the first place but didn't ask or argue and instead tried to make herself look busy by rearranging the various platters and pitchers on the table.

She continued her pointless task until Hvitserk teased her for her meticulousness and encouraged her to watch. She tried to object but found that it would just be easier to comply. So, she sat down on one of the stools and watched as the sons trained. It was a fascinating process to watch; seeing how they easily jumped from match to match and how they effortlessly delivered blows and shot straight, precisely angled arrows. She was unsure of how to react to everything she was observing, and so she settled with a grin; genuine and in awe. Inga, herself, had never been interested in learning to fight, but watching the sons' fight now and remembering how they used to be years ago made her smile; they had all come a long way.

After another hour or so of intense training, the four Ragnarssons finally decided to take a break and indulged themselves in the food Inga had set out. As usual, they sat and talked about issues regarding their father and the town's trade. Inga had grown accustomed to hearing their mature conversations but could find no interest in them. She knew little about the town's trade, and there was no need for her to start discussing a man who was not related to her in any way. She hated ignoring their conversation but grew bored and slowly began to block them out; drifting far away into a blank, empty state of mind. She almost felt as though she were dreaming, until she heard someone say her name which snapped her right out of her trance.

She was unsure of who had called her name, so she looked around at the four brothers wide-eyed. At first no one said anything and then suddenly Hvitserk began laughing. Sigurd joined in and Ubbe cracked a smile, his eyes crinkling like his father's. Ivar sat stone faced, scowling at his joyful siblings.

"What...what is so funny?" Inga asked. She admitted that she enjoyed seeing the sons looking lively and full of laughter, but she couldn't quite understand what they were laughing at.

Hvitserk, who's face had turned bright red from laughter, flashed Inga a smirk, "You looked like you were zoning out, so we called your name. You should have seen your face when we did that!" He exclaimed, suppressing another laugh, "You looked so confused."

Ivar groaned, "Why must you all be so immature? There was nothing funny about that."

The other three did not respond to his question, but instead continued their conversation with Inga.

"Is there something you needed?" She asked Hvitserk earnestly. He nodded in a sly fashion before turning to Sigurd who was now holding a lute in his hands.

"We wanted to know if you still knew any of those songs you and Sigurd used to sing along to or if you knew any of the dances. We thought it might be fun for you to relive some of that."

She blushed at the memory of dancing with Sigurd in the Hall. It was something that seemed so silly, and yet it brought her so much joy. She shook her head solemnly, "No... I don't remember the songs or the dances. There is no time for such things when you are a slave."

Hvitserk gave her a small nod before looking to Sigurd with a somewhat defeated expression plastered on his face.

"Why would we want to see her dance anyway?" Ivar inquired, "It's not like she was any good then, so who says she's any good now."

Sigurd, who had been biting his tongue since the moment Ivar had even opened his mouth, cast Ivar a furious look.

"I don't know why you are so opposed to Inga being around us and having a little fun. She may be a slave now, but she wasn't always a slave; she is our friend."

Ivar rolled his eyes, "She is your friend, not mine."

"And who's fault is that Ivar?" Sigurd shot back. He gave his brother another piercing glare before turning back to his horn of ale.

"Please do not argue," Inga responded quietly, "I do not wish to cause any problems between the two of you."

A respectful Sigurd gave her a nod, while Ivar only glanced her over before grunting and pulling himself down from his stool. He did not say where he was going, but no one asked; no one cared.

Once he was gone and out of sight, the mood seemed to lighten up and the three remaining brothers were able to joke again. They tried to get Inga to laugh along with them, but it seemed as though she was detached from the world and had no interest in rejoining. They debated trying to inquire about her experiences as a slave prior to her return, but it seemed like a subject that was sensitive for her; they'd have to ask about it in a subtle way.

Ubbe, who was known for being the peace-keeper amongst the brothers, decided to be the one to speak up. He cast Inga a faint smile before clearing his throat, "We understand that you aren't very comfortable with talking about your past, but isn't there something you can explain?"

Inga chewed her lip, pondering her response. What could she tell them that wouldn't leave them even more inquisitive? She released a long sigh before casting her eyes down to the ground and beginning to recount her memories.

"I was six summers old when I met you all. My father had died that year on a raid and we had little money, so my mother had taken up clothes making to provide for us. Your mother had taken a liking to my mother's clothes and was looking for someone who she could discuss her troubles with, and so they became close friends. My mother had me come along for every visit and encouraged that I befriend all of you, so I did. Our visits went on for a year or two, before my mother stopped bringing me along. My mother thought that I was getting too old to be running around and playing, and she had also grown concerned because at that time, Ivar had already begun to show some violent tendencies."

Inga paused for a moment and looked the three attentive brothers over before continuing, "Nothing interesting went on for many years, but then my mother contracted a fever of sorts when I was thirteen summers old. She did not survive."

The moment those words left Inga's mouth, the forest went dead silent. No one said anything, and no one complained as Inga took a minute to recompose herself, "After her death, I was unsure as what to do. We were very poor and so she left me with little inheritance. I considered going to see your mother but decided against that. I had not seen any of you for so long and the idea of me going to ask for assistance felt wrong. Instead, I decided to run off; to start anew. I left the next day and skipped my own mother's funeral. My plan was to head to a new village and find work, only I was stopped short by slave traders. They did not know who I was and did not believe me when I said that I was a free woman. I had no family to vouch for me and no money or anything of real value to prove that I was above slave status, so they took me. I didn't fight back; there was no point in fighting back against men who were twice my size. I figured that I should play along; after all, this is what the Gods had meant for me."

She took a deep breath before looking back to the brothers, their eyes wide and mouths slightly ajar. Another minute passed before she announced that she had no further information. It was clear that they wanted to hear more of her experiences, but no one pushed her; it was obvious that she was not proud of what had gone on during her four years of servitude.

The brothers exchanged looks with one another before turning back to Inga and thanking her for joining them to their training session. She nodded and tried her best to smile back at them before heading over to the table of food.

Diligently, she packed up the remaining scraps. When she was finished, she started to follow them on their trek home. The whole walk home, she still felt a bit on edge. After having revealed some of her life events, she felt a bit shaken; frightened of what they might think and nervous that they would continue to ask questions...but, she also felt somewhat free.

She had been holding her feelings in for so long and had thought that she was going to break down under the weight of them so many times. Knowing that they cared for her filled her with hope; hope that she would someday be able to move on and to tell them the truth; to free herself from the painful memories that still cluttered her mind. It was a risky dream; one that would most likely never come true, but it excited her all the same. Maybe someday she would trust one of them enough to speak the truth. Maybe she would someday be able to open her heart up to Sigurd or another man who showed interest. But for now, she wished to remain a dull slave and to enjoy the simplicity of her new life; to enjoy the comfort of her beloved home.

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 **Again, I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter (even though it was a bit slow and was mostly just backstory mixed with filler). If anyone has any suggestions, predictions, questions, or thoughts of any kind, feel free to leave them in the comment/review section.**

 **My chapter-ly question(s) for anyone who is willing to answer is: what do you love most about Ivar/what about him brings you here to my fanfiction (and other Ivar fics)?**


	3. Chapter 2

After spending the afternoon with the Ragnarssons, Inga returned to her quarters to rest up for the evening. The next day she was to spend her time in the Hall, cleaning and tending to everyone's needs alongside another slave named Margrethe, so she knew that she could use all the sleep she could get.

The night flew by and she awoke the next morning, bright and early. She dressed herself in a simple brown dress and thick apron before heading out to the Queen's Hall. There, she met up with Margrethe, who already looked to be busying herself by setting out pitchers of mead and platters full of cheese, nuts, and various other fruits. Inga offered to scrub the floors, which Margrethe quickly approved of.

She watched as the mousy, blonde slave girl dashed off to fill a bucket with water. Inga was grateful for Margrethe's assistance and for her compliance but couldn't help but be annoyed by the girl. She appreciated that she wasn't very talkative, but at the same time, could see the lust Margrethe felt for the sons of Ragnar – well, for three of them.

It wasn't that Inga was jealous per say, but that she was concerned. It was clear that Margrethe thought that she had the sons wrapped around her finger; the girl always did things to earn their attention and was often seen sneaking about with them.

While Inga denied feeling jealous of Margrethe, she did peg her ill feelings as a desire to look out for the sons. Something about the blonde slave seemed very off, especially when she was around Ivar. It was almost as if they had slept together and it had ended badly. Margrethe acted as though Ivar were Fenrir the wolf; as if he were going to pounce on her and attack at any second. It was true that Ivar had a temper, but Inga knew very well that Margrethe had little to fear, unless she purposely did something to provoke him.

Still, despite all the caution Inga felt, she accepted the bucket of water that Margrethe had filled and began her work. Inga knew that it would take a while to wash the floor of the entire Hall but was delighted to know that her job would give her something to busy herself with, and that having Margrethe around would keep the sons from hounding Inga with questions and compliments.

Sitting on her knees, she wet a rag and began to scrub the front half of the Hall, nearest to the entrance. Her task was not as difficult or as frustrating as she originally assumed it to be, but found that by an hour into it, her arms, back, and knees were beginning to ache. She pushed onward, not pausing for a break. She knew that she had a little farther to go but was overjoyed when she discovered that she had made it as far as the dining table. Inga considered taking a rest when suddenly, the doors to the Hall opened.

At first, Inga could not see who was entering, for her back was facing the doors, but she could tell by the way Margrethe tensed and by the slow, paced dragging noises that it was Ivar. Yet, she did not turn around to greet him. She did not even so much as glance at him. He had been so course with her for the past month, and so she figured the best way to gain his attention would be to mirror his behavior – to come across as cold and disinterested.

She continued to scrub at the floor, ignoring his presence. Although she could not see his face, she sensed that he was bothered by her diverted attention. A minute passed before he had himself fully seated on one of the dining chairs; he demanded someone pour him a drink, and Margrethe flashed Inga a fearful look. Inga carefully stood up from where she was scrubbing the floor and walked to Margrethe's side, whispering to her that it would be alright if she found work elsewhere and that she could repay Inga another day. Margrethe breathed a sigh of relief and scurried off like the frightened little mouse she was.

It was clear that Ivar knew of and understood Margrethe's fearful behavior, because he chuckled as she dashed out, "She's grateful for you allowing her to leave, I presume?"

Inga flashed him an expressionless look before walking over to the table and filling his horn. She did not say anything in response to his original comment, and once done filling his drink, headed back to the bucket of water on the floor.

"Why is it that you do all the work around here?" He inquired. Again, Inga ignored him. While she did appreciate him finally trying to converse with her, she knew it was just his attempt at pestering her and that as the conversation went on, he would most likely find ways to insult her. A few seconds passed, and it became clear that he was becoming increasingly frustrated by her silence. An idea entered his head.

With one swift motion, Ivar knocked the contents of his drink onto the floor, right beside Inga, where she had just finished scrubbing a moment before. She grumbled under her breath, but continued what she was doing, and once done, started to scrub away the spilt mead. Ivar was puzzled by her patience, but it did not discourage him.

He grunted, "Why are you now suddenly so quiet? You seemed quite talkative with my other brothers."

She chuckled softly to herself and responded without even turning to look, "I think we both know why I am saying so little to you." Inga continued to scrub the floor, trying to visualize the faces he must have been making at her behavior.

The Hall fell silent before finally, he dared to speak up again, "Where have you been these past four years?" He asked. The words that escaped his lips sounded somewhat concerned – almost, almost like he cared. Inga finally caved and turned to stare at him, his blue eyes meeting hers.

"It is a long story. I'd rather not tell."

Something in his expression changed, his brows furrowing and his gaze hardening, "You told my brothers, though, didn't you?" Inga continued to face him, trying her best to compose herself.

"I did not tell them everything. I merely explained how I ended up in this situation. You could have heard the story too, if you wouldn't have crawled away so urgently." He rolled his eyes at her and continued to sip from his horn of mead.

"I had more important places to be," He replied carelessly. Inga snorted.

"If discovering my past wasn't important then, what about it makes it important now?"

He broke eye contact with her and looked away, trying to hide the fact that her remarks had both taken him by surprise and impressed him. But instead of laughing at her persistence, he shook his head and averted his attention to the drink in his hand, "I'm bored," He stated plainly, "I have nothing to do right now. The others are out swimming, something I clearly am incapable of doing. What else am I supposed to do?"

Inga scowled at the young, blue-eyed male, "So I am your source of entertainment?" She bit out, "I am a slave. Not a playmate."

"And yet you still followed us out into the woods," He replied. His tone was beginning to sound almost mocking, "Although I really shouldn't question your reasoning behind that. I know you've always had a love for Sigurd. I bet that you followed us in hopes of getting closer to him; so that he'd free you and bed you."

Inga grimaced at his harshness and turned away from him, burying herself back into her work. It seemed that no matter how patient or how short she tried to be with Ivar, he always found a way to get under her skin; to torment her.

When she didn't respond to his comment, he continued to press her, making her blood boil all the more; making her face heat with a mix of shame, annoyance, pain...she did not dare look him in the eye.

She tried to block out his taunting; tried to ignore the smirk that overtook his face as he delighted in pestering her. She almost reached a point where his voice seemed distant and irrelevant – she could almost regain her patient demeanor, but then he bit out a cruel remark...one that she did not particularly favor, "Or did you follow us out there in hopes of attracting all of our attention like that whore Margrethe?"

"I am not a whore!" Inga snapped. She felt her entire face go red and she glared at Ivar with a fiery intensity, "I am not interested in being with your brothers. I'm not interested in being with anyone," She declared.

Ivar's face had gone rigid and his eyes met hers again, searching for an explanation as to why she had suddenly burst. While it was possible that she was just sensitive to words and didn't like being compared to a whore, he questioned if perhaps her thoughts and reactions had anything to do with her past.

Inga seemed to notice Ivar's inquisitive look because she immediately turned away, recoiling and refusing to meet his glance any longer, "Do not ever try and push me like that again," She responded quietly. He debated saying something rude regarding her status and not having the right to tell him what to do, but he refrained; he had never seen her so upset before.

"Well...if your intent is not to be romantically involved, then what was your reasoning for joining us?" He asked, quietly; paced. Inga sensed the calmness in his voice; he was testing the waters to see if their conversation could continue. Perhaps he truly did want to speak with her.

"Well first of all, your brothers asked me to go along, and seeing as though I'm a slave, denying their request seemed wrong. Aside from that, I suppose that I just want to have a friendship with them, with you, like I did once."

Ivar snorted and shook his head at her wishes, "Friendships are for the weak. Love is for the weak."

"Not true," She uttered softly, "You have to be strong to be able to open your heart to someone; to share yourself, your thoughts, and your secrets. To go through life wondering when the people you care for will die." She paused for a moment, ceasing her scrubbing to stare blankly into an unseen abyss.

"You love your mother," Inga spoke, "And I'm sure you have friends. You love your father too, don't you?" She asked, "You seemed to be the only one who defended him against your brothers."

He shrugged, "He is my father; my flesh and blood. It only seems right that I support him." His eyes wandered around the room, as if he were trying to avoid something. Finally, he released a sigh, "He wants me to go to England with him; to avenge the settlement."

Inga felt her eyes go wide, "Why are you telling me this?" She demanded, "Do your brothers know? Your mother?"

He merely chuckled at Inga's sudden burst of paranoia, "My brothers know, but I am waiting for the right time to tell Mother."

"You still did not explain why you told me this," Inga replied. It seemed that Ivar had begun to warm up to her, but she wanted to hear him admit it.

He seemed to know what she was hoping to hear, because he told her quite the opposite of what she wanted as a response.

"You are a slave," He stated plainly, "And I can tell you things and then command you not to tell anyone." It was a fair enough excuse; a reasonable and logic one, too. And much to his surprise, it earned him an eye roll and a slight smirk from Inga.

He debated saying something else, but was stopped short by the Hall doors, which flung open to reveal his three brothers, chuckling and sopping wet.

Ubbe led the pack and trekked his way inside, sitting down at the table. Hvitserk sat down in between Ubbe and Ivar, while Sigurd took the seat across from Ubbe. Inga had already gotten up off the ground and was beginning to pour the three sons each a horn of mead.

When she was done, she went back to scrubbing the floors, trying her best not to listen in on the conversations that arose, but then...she heard her name being mentioned.

"So, what were you doing in here with Inga?" Hvitserk asked, his eyes alight with mischief. Ivar rolled his eyes at his brother's intrigue, and lazily sipped at his mead.

"I was having a drink," Ivar said, "What else would I be doing?"

Sigurd laughed at Ivar, casting him a sly glance, "Were you perhaps talking with her, Boneless? Bothering her with your company?" He took a minute to eye up Inga, watching as she continued to clean the floor. It was evident that she was listening to every word that the brothers were saying, but Sigurd did not cease speaking, "Although...you do claim to have no interest in her. Still...I don't believe that. If anything, she's the one who has little interest in you. You don't know how to talk to women."

Ivar scowled, "And how would you know?" he protested, "You were not in here."

"I know you, Ivar. You scare away every girl who comes near you. It's only expected that you scare Inga away too, even though she's been very kind to you."

Ivar growled at his brother, earning a chuckle from Sigurd. Ubbe could sense that the situation was heating up and quickly put an end to the conversation, raising an arm and scolding them both. Ivar turned away from his brothers, slowly entering another one of his petulant moods. The others did not seem to mind though and drifted off into soft conversation, leaving Ivar to his thoughts.

He could not understand why he had spoken so much with Inga and why he had felt so insistent to lie about it. She was just a slave after all.

Still, there was something about her that interested him. She was so quick to hide anything regarding her past and it puzzled him as to why. He could remember very little from when he had been a child growing up alongside her, but he could remember that she had been cheerful most of the time and that she had always sung lively songs and had danced around. Now, she rarely said anything and when Sigurd played music in the Hall at night, she showed little interest in it; she would stare blankly as if she were empty inside. As much as he hated to admit he, he despised seeing her that way. Now, she rarely said anything and when Sigurd played music in the Hall at night, she showed little interest in it; she would stare blankly as if she were empty inside. As much as he hated to admit he, he despised seeing her that way.

It wasn't that he wished to form a relationship with her – no, he knew he was better off on his own, but still, he felt drawn to her. Even in the instances where he wouldn't speak with her or in the moments where he'd order her around, he was always thinking about her – always looking at her. Her eyes were magnetic, reeling him in and filling him with curiosity. Through her eyes, he could see into her soul. He could see her pain and sorrow; he could see the bleakness that had overcome her. He wanted to know what had happened to her and caused her to look that way.

Perhaps in some way, he did care for her and did regard her as more of a friend than he let on or allowed himself to believe. Still, he convinced himself that his pull to her was purely curiosity. Nothing more, nothing less.

He wanted to strip her of her secrets. To discover her past and keep it to himself; to know something that his brothers didn't. To steal her attention as a way to pick fun at Sigurd. He remembered doubting the good that would come out of her return, but now all he could feel was s deep feeling of satisfaction and anticipation.

He was going to discover her past even if it killed him.

* * *

 **I hope that everyone enjoyed this chapter and that Ivar doesn't seem too out of character. If anyone has any tips or constructive criticism, I'm interested in hearing it. If people have predictions or thoughts I'd also like to hear them. I also hope that this doesn't seem like it's moving too fast. The point of this chapter was to give people a new perspective of Ivar and to also give him motivation to become closer with Inga. Basically, he wants to learn about her past cause he's a nosy, bored little teen who wants to piss off Sigurd by hogging all her attention...although I will promise this...he'll start developing feelings for her...eventually XD**

 **The question for this week is going to be: what is your favorite Vikings moment? It can be a funny moment, sad moment, mind-blowing moment, you name it. I'd say that Ragnar's death was one of my favorite moments; I'm obviously sad that he's gone, but it was so poetic and well written and directed. The music and his speech were breath-taking, so it's definitely one of my favorites. I also love any scene with Ivar, but I specifically love the scene where Ivar tries to ask Floki not to leave and go sailing; it's a really vulnerable moment for him and I love seeing him vulnerable and emotional - it makes him seem more human.**


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